


Don’t Ask

by GillianInOz



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillianInOz/pseuds/GillianInOz
Summary: McKay is quiet after the Genii invasion.





	Don’t Ask

McKay is quiet after the Genii invasion, and that’s enough to have everyone glancing at him in concern. Once the ebullience of ‘Thank God We Survived’ faded away, and the expedition had to face the funeral services of two well liked military men whose only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time, everyone was a little more quiet. A little more worried.

But for McKay to sit silently through a meeting just pecking desultorily at his datapad, especially as the ideas of how to deal with the Genii heated up, was so unusual that even the most obtuse were raising eyebrows.

“Ideas, McKay?” Sheppard said, mainly as a way to prod the man into paying attention.

“It’s not my job to come up with military and security tactics,” McKay said, not even looking up from his pad. “I’m still dealing with a myriad of problems resulting from grounding untold giga watts of electricity through the entire city.”

“1.21 giga watts?” Sheppard joked. “Blow out our flux capacitor did it?”

McKay just grunted and wandered out of the meeting, eyes still on his data pad. 

“When Rodney doesn’t bite at a Back To The Future reference,” Elizabeth said worriedly. “You know something’s wrong.”

Sheppard was too surprised at Elizabeth actually getting that reference to do more than nod.

:: :: ::

Things settled down pretty quickly though, there was too much to do, too much to worry about to brood for long. Meetings returned to spirited debates punctuated by John’s bad jokes and Rodney’s pissy condescension. Someone misplaced some naquadria, coffee supplies were running low already, a still had been found by an unlucky patrol - who now faced menacing glares from the scientists who had built it as well as those who were benefitting from it.

On their next mission they lost two more expedition members to an ancient wraith, and John once again faced writing letters of condolence that might never make it back to Earth, while silently congratulating himself on seeing beneath Rodney’s loud boasting to the genuinely brave guy beneath.

“It’s not bravery,” Mackay said out of the blue on their long flight back to Atlantis, the seats where Abram and Gall had sat just days before conspicuously empty. Two body bags at the rear were studiously but respectfully ignored. “It’s self preservation. Believe me, I was terrified every single second.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard said laconically. “Being terrified and being brave pretty much go together.”

:: :: :: 

Another two funerals later there was the usual staff meeting of department heads, and this time McKay dragged Zelenka along. “We need access to the gate for a few hours,” McKay said, plopping down into a seat and reaching for his coffee. God knows where he’d stashed his beans, almost everyone else was down to bitter Athosian tea at this point.

“Late evening,” Zelenka expanded. “When no teams are offworld.”

McKay explained his idea for a new MALP system, something smaller and easier to construct. “It just trundles through the gate,” he said, holding his data pad so everyone could see the schematic. “Digs in beyond the splash zone, and starts gathering information. A camera records any movements or human activity, sensors gather information on atmosphere, temperature, all the usual. Best of all we can send it a day or two in advance of a mission and get a real sense of any unknown or unexplored planets.”

Everyone was duly impressed, and John idly scanned the designs, wondering if Rodney could make him a remote controlled plane, or maybe even a race car. Some of the hallways in empty areas would make awesome racetracks. He day dreamed through the rest of the meeting, only vaguely noting that Rodney was given permission to test four of his new MALPs as soon as he had the prototypes made.

:: :: :: 

John thought nothing more of it, too busy surviving a deadly virus and justifying his decisions to yet another boss, although not a military one this time. In fact he’d forgotten all about it, until they returned from a market Teyla had recommended they attend on Bagara, where gossip was traded as hotly as grain and hooch.

“The scuttlebutt,” Sheppard explained to Elizabeth in the after mission briefing, “seems to be that the Genii stargate has dropped off the network.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Meaning?”

“No one has been able to connect to the Genii home world,” Teyla explained. “The ‘gate simply doesn’t open.”

Elizabeth glanced from Teyla to Sheppard to McKay. “Did anyone on Bagara have a theory about that?”

“Lots of theories,” John said dryly. “Nothing concrete. Most of those folks seem of the belief the Genii are just the harmless farmers we used to think they were.”

“They’ve worked very hard to cultivate that fiction,” Teyla said. 

“So it’s basically just traders looking to buy their crops, or trade seasonal work for grain who’ve tried to connect and can’t. Most people are blaming the wraith, of course.”

“But even when there’s a really bad culling,” Ford interjected, “The wraith don’t usually destroy ‘gates, do they?”

“We simply don’t have a large enough sample to conclude that,” McKay said waspishly. “If they attack from ships in orbit it’s quite possible they destroy ‘gates to stop their dinner from fleeing.”

“I have never heard this happening before,” Teyla said doubtfully.

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you?” McKay said sarcastically. “After all, the population would be either culled, or cut off. Who would you hear it from?”

“I meant,” Teyla said patiently, “that I have never heard of a stargate simply ceasing to connect.”

McKay shrugged. “Maybe it was inadvertent,” he said carelessly. “A stray shot could have taken out the ‘gate. An earthquake could have swallowed it up. The Genii could have buried it for some political reason that makes sense to the kind of idiots who build nuclear weapons in their backyards with no shielding.”

“Maybe we’re not the only enemy they’ve made,” Ford mused. “Maybe they’re just dialling out over and over again so no one can connect a wormhole?”

“Or an enemy is dialling in to prevent the Genii from dialling out,” Teyla said thoughtfully.

“Do we really care?” Rodney said. “After what they did to us, what they tried to do to us. Do we really care if the ground has opened up and swallowed their whole damned city?” He rubbed absently at his forearm, where John knew a crisscross of scars were slowly fading. 

“Dr McKay,” Teyla chided. “The entire Genii are not to blame for the actions of their military. Access to the Ring of the Ancestors is their right, and important not just for trade, but as an escape route if needed.”

“Sure, sure,” McKay said irritably. “I’m just saying, is this our problem? They’re hardly our allies, and even if they were, what would we do about it? We don’t have a ship to fly to the Genii home world and ask them how they are. I doubt they’d thank us even if we did.”

“Probably just try to hijack it,” John murmured, but a thought had just struck him, and he couldn’t shake it off. His first thought after Kolya had staggered back through the wormhole had been to lob a few grenades after him. If he’d had one to hand he’d have done just that. Later, watching the marines put the bodies of two murdered men under his command into body bags, he’d idly dreamt of just sliding a nuke through the ‘gate and bottling up the Genii forever.

Of course it had just been one of those crazy thoughts you had when you were full of rage and still sick at having to kill three score men to defend the lives of your friends, to keep your home safe. He hadn’t seriously considered it.

But then he wasn’t a scientist who could build a bomb in his sleep. He had no idea how much naquadria it would take, for example, to blow up a stargate made of naquada. And he didn’t have access to the ‘gate in the middle of the night, sending new improved MALP’s trundling through the event horizon. But he knew who did. 

:: :: ::

Sheppard wandered seemingly casually into the labs, sketching a wave at Zelenka as the man lifted his fluffy head and blinked across the room.

“Major?”

“Oh, hey,” Sheppard said, as if it was surprising to see Zelenka working in his own lab at 10am Atlantis time. “How’s it going?”

“Fine, fine,” Zelenka said, straightening from his slump and pulling his glasses off his nose. He idly polished them with the corner of his uniform jacket. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I was reading the email you and McKay sent out detailing the results of the new MALP test.”

Zelenka popped his glasses back on his nose and nodded, smiling. “Yes, very successful tests,” he said happily. “All four prototypes performed as expected, and were collected successfully. We just need to weather-proof them a little more, as there was heavy rain on PS-“

“All four?” Sheppard interrupted. “Just four?”

“Yes yes, all four.” He squinted at John. “Is problem?”

“No, no problem. Good job,” John said, fiddling with a handheld scanner in bits on the work bench. He turned to go, then paused as if just remembering something. “Hey, did you guys ever find that missing naquadria?”

Zelenka’s mouth turned down. “Not yet,” he said glumly. “Rodney stormed like dinosaur around labs for days. I’m sure it will turn up, no doubt improperly labelled.”

“And McKay can indulge in another bitchfest when it does,” John said wryly. “Should I be worried though? That stuff’s pretty unstable, right?”

Zelenka’s brows lifted in surprise. “Not without complex detonator,” he explained. “And even then would need to be in close proximity to a large amount of naquada to cause any sort of significant explosion.”

“And the only naquada we really have is the generators?”

“And the stargate of course,” Zelenka chuckled. “Don’t worry, Major, I’m sure it will turn up.”

“Sure, sure,” John said amiably, and halted in his tracks as he turned and saw Rodney standing in the lab doorway.

“Major,” Rodney said. “Working hard as usual I see?”

“Just checking in,” Sheppard said. “I’m going to get a cup of tea, you want some?”

Rodney lifted the travel mug in his hand. “I’m not that desperate yet,” he smirked. “But I’ll join you while you force some of that noxious brew down.” He glanced sideways at John as they traversed the halls. “Since when do you read the emails I send you?”

“Always,” Sheppard said, trying for lofty superiority. “As military commander it’s my job to keep my finger on the pulse of the city.”

“Uh huh,” McKay said, stepping into the transporter and touching the screen. “And how’s that working for you? Pulse steady, is it?”

“As steady as it can be with disappearing naquadria and vanishing stargates.”

Rodney sent him a puzzled glance as they lined up at the tea trolley. “What has one thing got to do with the other?”

Sheppard poured some steaming brew from a bubbling urn into a mug and followed McKay to a table by the windows. “You tell me.”

Rodney tilted his head curiously. “Why?”

“Why?” Sheppard repeated.

“Yes. Why? Why do you want to know?”

Sheppard huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Did you not hear me just now? It’s my job to-“

“To keep your finger on the pulse, yes, yes,” McKay dismissed with a flick of his fingers. “Just as it’s my job as head of Science to herd around a bunch of ill prepared scientists, most of whom were big fish in their own small ponds back on Earth, but here in Pegasus are so out of their depth they’re drowning. Who die of an Ancient virus, screaming with terror. Or get the life sucked out of them by a wraith. Or get tortured by some Cold War reject in a badly fitting uniform.” He broke off, smiling tightly. “I might not have the gun and the uniform and the hair,” he went on. “But it’s just as much my job to protect them as it is yours.” 

Sheppard gazed into McKay’s calm, blue eyes, trying to keep all expression off his face. It was a trick he’d learned his first weeks in the military, and had stood him in good stead since. It was a lot harder to maintain in the face of a steely eyed genius who he was beginning to think of as a friend. 

“And how far would you be willing to go to do that?” he asked, jaw tight.

McKay sipped his coffee, eyes still firmly fixed on John’s. “How far did you go in Afghanistan?”

John’s breath left him in a rush. “Don’t go there, McKay,” he said grimly.

“You’re right,” McKay said, although neither his expression nor his tone were in the least apologetic. “You’re absolutely right. And that’s my advice, Sheppard. Don’t go there. What’s that odd little slogan the US military adopted? Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

“McKay,” Sheppard said. “Rodney, listen.”

“Although perhaps a better term would be plausible deniability.”

“Someone will find out,” Sheppard hissed, finally breaking their locked gaze and flicking a glance around the room. No one seemed to be paying them any particular attention, everyone was just lined up for food, or sat at tables, chatted, played chess. “You can’t keep a secret like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” McKay dismissed. “But on the subject of secrets, well. Just for arguments sake? If a person acts alone, covers their tracks, and ensures that there is no evidence of a crime being committed, let alone one that they themselves could possibly be considered suspect? Then the secret stays buried. Or in this case, blown to smithereens without a single life lost.”

Sheppard was left speechless, and could only watch as Rodney finished his coffee to the last sip, smacking his lips them gazing wistfully into the dregs, as if mourning the emptiness of his mug.

“Don’t you feel guilty at all?” John finally managed.

“Hypothetically you mean?”

“Rodney,” John hissed. 

“Do you believe in psychics?” McKay said, and Sheppard blinked at the non-sequitur.

“What?”

“Psychics? Mediums? Crystal ball reading? Tea leaves, oracles, prophecies?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Because as I stood there watching them carry away those poor bastards in their body bags, my arm throbbing, my head still full of Kolya’s dead eyes as he carved away on my flesh, I had this blinding vision of the future.” Rodney’s eyes were tired now, and he rubbed at them with a shaking hand. The trembling fingers froze any comment John was going to make in his throat.

“The Genii came within inches of taking this city. Of locking out the bulk of the expedition, or keeping me around for my gene, and Elizabeth around to torture, of doing god knows what to you in retaliation for the lives you took. And I knew, in that instant of prophecy worthy of the Sibylline themselves, that they were never going to give up. Not after seeing Atlantis, not after seeing how vulnerable we really are, how few of us are here holding this city.”

John swallowed hard, his own memories of that terrible day still fresh and raw.

“And with my genius brain I knew what I had to do. I also knew, of course, that it was something Elizabeth would never consider, that Teyla would frown over, that you would say no to, even while every instinct you had as a soldier told you it was the smart thing to do.”

John remembered his idle dream, his crazy thoughts, his rage and gut-churning sickness.

“Yes,” McKay said soberly, and John quickly controlled his expression again, wondering what had shown on his face for just a moment. Rodney sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes again. “Look, Sheppard, it’s all on you now. You can report your suspicions, I can deny, you won’t find any evidence – I’m just that good at covering my tracks – but everyone will know you’re right. Elizabeth won’t trust me any more, Teyla will shun me, and if we actually survive long enough to find a ZPM and contact Earth, I’ll be shipped home and sent back to Siberia, or the equivalent thereof. So, what do you want to do?”

John really wanted to protest that question. Really wished he’d kept his suspicions to himself. Even more fervently wished he wasn’t so smart and sneaky and hadn’t figured out what Rodney had done.

Mostly though he wished Sumner hadn’t got himself killed and left him somewhere he’d never wanted to be. In charge of people, making life or death decisions, being forced to weigh morality with common sense and his own instincts to protect his people at all costs.

“This isn’t fair,” he muttered.

Rodney could have pointed out that being tortured wasn’t fair either. Or being shot at point blank range by invaders. Or being put into the position where the rights of a bunch of people probably dying of radiation poisoning were somehow more important than the lives of the Atlantis expedition. 

But Rodney didn’t do that, he just fiddled with the handle of his empty travel mug. Restless fingers just inches from the fading scars on his forearm. 

“Can you live with this secret?” Sheppard whispered, maybe as much to himself as to Rodney.

McKay chuckled humourlessly. “I’m a scientist. I come up with a few equations and someone else turns them into weapons of mass destruction. I just wanted to learn about space, but here I am spending all my time figuring out ways not to die horribly. This? This I can live with.” He pushed wearily to his feet and patted Sheppard on the shoulder as he walked away. “How about you?”

Sheppard closed his eyes, Rodney’s weary resignation somehow contagious. His mind ran over the things he lived with every day. The luminous afterimage of soaring missiles painted on the backs of his eyelids, incandescent explosions, dust and stone and flesh thrown upwards into the sky. And behind his eyes Elizabeth’s pale, drawn face, Rodney’s self applied bandage over his uniform sleeve covering the bloody wounds, burnt bodies littering the corridors of his city.

And when he opened his eyes again he didn’t have to school his expression, he could feel the ease in his muscles as his face relaxed. He took a sip of his cold tea and didn’t even grimace. It wasn’t half bad when it was cold actually. Maybe he could suggest to the mess they make some iced tea? Be nice to sip out on the balconies on a hot day.

Musing on the idea of a bit of local honey to sweeten the taste, Sheppard wandered off back to his daily duties. 

The End


End file.
